Stormgrin: Origins
by Firecadet
Summary: When an imperial fleet attacks a small mid-rim world, a military police officer named Junn Stormgrin is among the defenders. The next few days will be his crucible.


Sometimes, Junn guessed, trading shots over a makeshift barricade with an imperial column, you have no idea when you wake up in the morning how your day is going to go. The twenty year old miralian MP sat back, watching as the rest of his scratch fireteam fired their weapons down onto the column, remembering how the day had started.

Three hours earlier...

The nerf bacon was good. Home-cured, using multiple woods, it sat on the palate like a sensuous feast, with dozens of perfectly harmonious overtones combined into perfection. Next to it, there was a mound of scrambled egg, personally removed from under the him shortly before cooking. Add in toast, beans and local sausages, and it was the ultimate breakfast, especially for a Military Policeman on leave with his family. He had spent two of the preceding three weeks living off of MRE rationpacks, which were known as Massively Rejected Excrement, or Morsels of Recycled Entrails, to anyone unfortunate enough to have no other option. Hunting down a unit of soldiers who'd gone rogue, however, had required sacrifices, especially on a peaceful farming world like Noveriun, the site of their rampage.

He and his family were just getting on with the important business of joking about the food, and the (inevitably bad) weather, when suddenly the planetary news service overrode the young adults movie they were watching with a breaking news announcement.

"Attention all citizens: the Sith Empire is invading Brecon. All emergency personnel, report to your duty stations immediately. All military and local defence personnel, report to your local rally point with any blasters you own. I repeat..."

Junn's heart went cold at the news. Without thinking, he ran up to his bedroom, before grabbing his official uniform, which incorporated a ballistic weaves, thermal strips and a protective underlay into a single garment, and climbed into it, before grabbing his issue weapons, along with his two personal back-up arms, and running downstairs, where his father was unlocking the arms cabinet holding the family hunting blasters.

The weapons were piled into a hold-all, before Junn's father made a move to retain one.

"This isn't your fight, dad." Junn said, before pushing him firmly indoors, leaving him with the weapon. "If they get this far, don't fight them. Take mum, Kila and Lars and run out the back-door. Head for devil's cleft if you can."

"Understood." His father replied. The man had fought in the Great War, and had received the Alderaan medal for his service there. "Don't go getting yourself killed. Kila would never forgive me, now you're not just walking out."

"Roger that." Junn replied, smiling. "Same for you lot." He said, walking out of the door.

The makeshift RV in the main square was disorganised, to say the least. Dozens of men and women had turned up with weapons, leaving the three local militiamen who were in charge snowed under. Fortunately, a number of serving or retired soldiers were beginning to arrive, and they were able to restore order in record time.

"Stormgrin, you take a squad up to the high road, along with Pop, and see if you can block the gorge at Jaden's pass. Bring down the mountain onto Kalar track if you can." It was very good logic. The targeted sections were both at the bottom of sheer cliffs, with no way round. "Then come and meet us at the gap."

The gap, as it was known, was a half mile wide pass between two cliffs, which would be impossible to block, except with warm bodies.

"Vins, you stay back here and organise anyone who shows up with a blaster or a slugthrower to cover the road from the gap. Put someone with good sense and a radio on the other roads just in case."

"Sir." The non-com replied, turning to dispatch his spotters.

The two sedimentary cliffs came down easily, liberally seeded with spare mines to make path clearance that bit slower. When they got to the gap, about eighty or so of the townsfolk, with ten soldiers on leave and the local militiamen, were dug in, aiming down the pass to where the imperial infantry would make their assault. He even spotted a small anti-tank laser whose origins he would normally have investigated dug in behind some felled trees, the gunner keeping an eye out for tanks or APC's.

The imps arrived an hour later, marching down the road in formation, perfectly goosesteping in unison. There was no warning shot. The locals fired for effect immediately, sending bolts tearing through the column, dropping them in a single salvo without giving the chance to call for help.

The next unit to advance was a lot more careful. Instead of advancing in a scare the villagers formation, they arrived in skirmish formation, supported by a medium tank and several heavy weapons. The anti-tank laser spoke first, knocking out the tank in a brilliant flash, before smaller support weapons enfiladed the skirmishers, backed up by infantry fire. So far, things were going well.


End file.
